Raising Hope
by ladyunebarton
Summary: Suddenly there's a baby in their lives. Together they try to make it work. Sherlock/John.


Title: Raising Hope.

Summary: Suddenly there's a baby in their lives. Together they try to make it work.

Characters/Pairing: Sherlock/John.

Warnings: None.

I don't own these characters. So I'm not making money out of this.

Notes: I'm ignoring some things from the second series. Also be prepared to read poorly written English.

They were sleeping when it happened.

It was one of these weird nights in which Sherlock actually sleeps, and around three am the laptops went on, sudden light and sound in the living room. They both stumble from their rooms alarmed by the horrible noise of the high pitch.

"Someone is hacking us" explained Sherlock sitting in front of his laptop watching with interest the long lines of code. "You can make tea, John"

That wasn't a question; it was more like an order. It's not like John took orders from Sherlock, well.. He liked to think he didn't. He walked to the kitchen anyway. "¿You are not alarmed?"

"¿Why?" he asked with vacant expression. "This attack is pointless; I don't keep important information in my laptop."

"If you don't, ¿what do they want?"

But that wasn't answered since a sudden text came out, then a new window came out. There was a young girl looking right at them trough a webcam.

"Help me" she said, eyes wide with fear.

"I hope you know we have consulting time. It's published in John's blog" Sherlock said sarcastic.

The girl was crying and sounded really desperate and heartbroken, John jumped over the couch in an instant to look better.

"¿What's wrong?"

"It's Moriarty, he's trying to kill me and my baby"

"¿James Moriarty?" said Sherlock frowning. He didn't look especially alarmed by that statement. More annoyed than angry.

"He send a warning just a moment ago, he's coming to kill me, I…I dint know who else to go, I know you stand up to him and I need help"

"The address?" Sherlock began to put his coat and scarf over his pajama. John was right behind him doing the same. They were going so John went to retrieve his gun from the secret place that wasn't that secret because you can't keep secrets from Sherlock Holmes. But this was another thing that John wanted to believe he could.

Another text window came out with the address and the image of the woman disappeared.

"Come on John" said Sherlock impatient by the door.

They were both wearing their pajamas and he was trying to conceal the gun without results. He was worried; nothing with Moriarty could be good.

2.

They climbed the stairs of the building; it was a poorly keep department unit where drug addicts and poor families lived. It was dirty, poorly lit and had an extraordinary active life to be three Am. When they got to the right door. Sherlock stopped and peeked around the lock.

He gestured with his hand and then he was kneeling on the floor to look under the door at the light that came out from the other side. He knocked but nobody answered.

"Do you think Moriarty its inside?" John whispered.

"I don't think so. Do you hear that?. I think it's only the infant"

"¡Open the door, Its John Watson!" he screamed.

But as Sherlock said, there was not reaction from inside. No movement or noise could be heard. John walked to a tinny window to the right. It looked like a bathroom window. He peeked through It. To his horror, the baby was laying over a few blankets inside the tub. The water was running and the infant was crying, the water was treating to drown him, his ears and chest were already submerged.

"It's the baby" he said shocked. "¡Its drowning!"

Sherlock looked slightly alarmed, but he was moving, he kicked the door with one strong leg and the door opened with force. He got his gun and went inside pointing in every direction. He had a sudden flashback of doing this exactly movement in the past. Some Afghan house in the middle of the night been assaulted with dangerous surprises hidden in corners.

But this room wasn't big enough and it only had one door and it was the bathroom. He went immediately after his brain made a quick scan of the area. He put the safety lock on the gun and then hid it in his pocket. The poor creature was cold when he took it out of the tub. He put it close to his chest and tried to clean his body.

"There's no one in here" said Sherlock when he came out with the baby safe in his arms.

The room was so small and it had just one bed. In one corner there was a computer still full of lines of code.

"No one is here" repeated Sherlock with a frown.

"¿What happened?"

"I have a few theories" he said walking around. "No sign of the mother, probably they take her to kill her somewhere else. They put the child in the bath tub with the clear intent of drowning him"

He wanted to scream that he didn't need to be a genus to know that. "¿Why?. ¿Why would someone do something so awful?."

Sherlock probed the things lying around, clothes mostly, some papers, but the only interesting thing there was the computer.

"You see this?. It's been infected with a virus. It's destroying whatever she keep in the hard drive. At least it's evident that she had information that Moriarty didn't want her to have. I suspect there is more about this"

"We have to call the police, we need to find her"

"It's of no use; Moriarty cleaned this place, not a clue that we could use to find her"

"What about the child?"

"I'll call Lastrade, we can leave it in here, and you know he doesn't like it when we touch or take things from the crime scene. But I don't think this is much to work with. It's not really a crime scene, isn't it?. Its better if we don't get ourselves involved"

"¡We can't leave this child alone!" he said angrily. "¿What if Moriarty comes back?. He probably knows we are in here, he could be watching, he could came back to finish the boy. ¡No, we are not leaving him here alone!"

"Good, you can stay here all night if you want, I'm going home."

"¿Did you hear anything I said?. The Child it's not safe anywhere even if we hand him over to the police. Moriarty can find him".

"¿What do you suggest then?" asked Sherlock very much annoyed.

"Well you said something right. I want to stay with the child all night, but I'm taking him with me to Baker street."

"¿Are you mad?" Sherlock said frowning and looking alarmed. Genuinely alarmed for the first time in all the bloody night.

"That a bit rich coming from you" he said looking in the room for clothes for the baby.

"I see…, you made up your mind and any attempt to make you consider otherwise it's futile. Your sentimental side it's kicking in. But if you are doing this, I think you may need this" Said Sherlock picking up a bag behind the door.

"¿How did you find it?"

"The woman obviously had plans of leaving this place in hurry, the child's things are all packet in here. She didn't pack anything for herself because she probably didn't care about anything besides the infant"

3.-

The baby stopped crying once the cab was moving. The daylight was beginning to paint the horizon with a grayish glow.

"¿Do you have anything else?" he whispered. "¿Worked something else?"

"I have one theory, but I find it sickening. Considering its Moriarty it might be as well."

"¿You find it sickening?" he asked with a smile. "I found that hard to believe, you are a very sick man yourself"

"¿What do you mean by that?" asked Sherlock. Then affronted he said. "¡I'm not like him!"

"You hurt the feelings of the people around you. And you said you were a high functional sociopath and let's not forget your twisted morals and weird habits like keeping heads in the fridge"

"One dead head in the fridge and get labeled for life" he said frowning. "All right, I might not be a sane man. But my moral compass works just fine. It may even surprise you, but I'm nothing like Moriarty. I have feelings and can feel attachment to people and places. He can't do that. He doesn't feel anything. He's more monster than man" He looked at the baby sleeping in a warm blanket inside John's arms. "Eve I know killing infants is wrong and off limits"

John wanted to point out many of the things Sherlock did consider on limits and were still wrong by society standards. But instead he said. "¿What's the theory then?"

"The girl was attractive, had a high IQ, and didn't have family. She probably was an orphan, since she didn't have anyone else to ask for help, and judging by his living conditions, she didn't have money either. It's obvious she had some work association with Jim. Probably she was a subordinated in his criminal network. ¿Professional Hacker?. Sounds likely she was in the business of stealing information or even bank accounts. She made money but was still poor, so she probably was a drug addict and had many depts. Maybe because of her pregnancy she tried to leave Moriartys organization."

"But he did not let her go, because he never lefts lose ends."

"Exactly, he would never let trails behind him. His men and woman are sworn for life. Specially one that got to know him well, you are with him forever and if you try to leave, he will kill you."

"What about the child?.

"Nothing difficult there. He wanted the infant dead because it's _his_"

John was perplexed for a few seconds, then he looked at the baby in his arms.

"Easy John, the child it's not a psychopath"

"¿How do you know it's his?"

"I told you she was young and attractive. A very intelligent woman. It's the kind of thing Moriarty would chose to procreate. One sudden impulse motivated by arrogance and narcissism. He wanted a copy of himself in the world, and for that he chose a good prospect for it"

"¿Why did he try to kill him, then?"

"¿Do you ever listen to what I say?." Said Sherlock frowning. He was giving him a look that make him feel like an idiot. "It's defective"

"¿Defective?, as in broken?"

"He's deaf…" exclaimed Sherlock with exasperation.

"¿Why are we whispering then?"

"You begun this conversation, and I was lazy to correct you. I just realize that if the child is deft then it's probably the reason why the woman tried to run. She was trying to save the child's life."

"God…" whispered John.

"You don't seem to believe me" said Sherlock with boredom. To make his point, he clapped loudly inside the cab. The baby didn't even move.

"Oh poor thing" John said with real despair.

"And because of all this, I think I'm very different from Moriarty. Women aren't really my area. But more importantly I don't feel the need to perpetuate myself in the future. I don't want to have children"

"¿What if you meet someone?"

"If I had to chose to be something, that would be gay, John. I don't need children and I'm certain that I'll never going to had them. I'm married to my profession."

"¿Really?,¿ you'd had never thought about having a family?"

"¿Family?" Asked Sherlock surprised. "I had one once. It was boring and messy at best. Naturally you have this kind of thoughts often"

4.-

The baby was about a month old, judging by his size. He cried just once in the morning, then he was awake looking with little green eyes. He was a quite child, but probably because of his deafness. Not a single noise was scaring him. Even if Sherlock decided to make horrible noises with the violin.

Mrs Hudson went crazy with the baby; she had one many years before. Now Mrs Hudson son was one of those middle classers full of pretensions, and was ashamed of his humble origins. He never visited and especially since he married some upper class girl. The poor woman barely knew his grandchildren's in photographs. So the baby got her attention immediately. In less than five hours the baby was filling the void left behind by her son.

What was really surprising was that Sherlock was so good at deduction that he could read the baby as if he were a musical score.

"He's taking a shit…" he said suddenly while they were having dinner and the baby was sleeping in pillows over the carpet in the living room. Then he proceeded to continue his dinner calmly since it was one of those weird days he actually wanted to eat.

He must be refilling his battery, John thought. Sherlock was sleeping the night before and now he was eating.

"¡MRS HUDSON!"

"¡I'm the landlady, not the sitter!" she screamed while climbing the stairs.

"I don't know how to change dippers; I didn't even pay attention to that in Barts"

"Well, you need to learn soon, dear. This baby isn't going to change by himself."

John nodded thoughtfully while she attended the baby.

"¿And with what porpoise do you need to learn that?" asked Sherlock. "It's not like we are pretending to keep him"

"No, but we don't know how long he's going to stay either"

"He's leaving as soon as we know more about his case"

"¿Are you treating him like a client?"

"Naturally" answered Sherlock. "Please make sure he's comfortable while he stays here"

That was right before Mrs Hudson took the dipper and the awful smell invaded the apartment. John frowned with distaste. But he was far from regretting his decision in bringing him here.

The first night. John had the baby with him in his queen size bed. He was admiring his tinny hands and realized that the baby was a calming presence in the room. It's a common scene he supposed. Just a baby sleeping, but at the same time it was wonderful. This little person with little hands and little nails was trusting in him to keep him safe.

Of course he wanted children and family of his own. It's the kind of things soldiers said to each other in the battle field. 'You are going to make it, and going to have kids with Frieda, you just had to stay with me and fight'— and he heard that whispered with force and faith beside the wounded while he tried to keep them alive.

His comrades anchored this fantasy with the earth of the living. The truth was that actually many of them died on the hot sand of Afghanistan carried away in a storm of fire.

When he was shot, he didn't have a woman waiting anymore. And even if his wound was not life treating as others. He was jealous that nobody could say it to him. They sort of did tell him that he was going back to find happiness.

What neither of them knew was that war was a scar in the deepest of the soul, a scar so ugly that makes things so much difficult. And things like love, happiness and family were beyond research and keep. The friends that got them before war were having a difficult time adjusting to faces and smiles. The lonely ones like him were incapable of understanding women and feelings. The feelings of the people around them. Maybe he liked to be with Sherlock because he didn't understand feelings either.

They both make it normal together.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't looking for it anymore. Because he was, he was trying to find a relationship. He was having dates with women. One after the other, but completely incapable of making them work.

And there were these weird feelings he had for Sherlock, feelings he didn't dare to name yet. The ones that make him recoil to the notion of not having him in his life.

So everything was a big contradiction.

But this baby was different. He was comforting.

"You don't have anyone either" he whispered to the baby even if he could not hear.

5.-

The next morning there was a basket with some strange baby doll with horns lying in blankets on the front door.

Sherlock was not surprised, but looked interested in the note.

"It's from Moriarty. He says 'The moment you let this child out of your sight, I'm going to kill him, love Jim'. So I guess we're not taking him to Lastrade after all"

"You know Moriarty probably has people in Childs Services, God knows what for"

"Yes, he could find him if he speaks to the right people. He's not safe anywhere else"

"¡Well I'm off then!" John said with a smile. "¿Sherlock will you look after the baby?"

"No" was the prompt answer

"I need to go to work"

"So do I" said the detective. "He doesn't even hear you; you could take him with you and he won't notice"

"¿What if he cries?"

"You move him around"

"I see…" said John frowning. "I have to do the most stupid things for you in any kind of situations, always have to follow you around taking orders, and have to stand your swing moods, ¿and you can't do me this favor?"

"You are exaggerating John" Said Sherlock looking at him. Then he went back to the microscope.

"What's so important that you can't take care of him for a couple of hours?"

"Currently, some spores from a very venomous plant in South America"

"Then the baby won't bother you, and anyway if it's something difficult like a diaper, you can ask Mrs Hudson for help"

"¿Wouldn't be better if she took him instead?"

"Bloody hell, I thought I could count on you once in a while; You said you weren't like Moriarty, but maybe you are more like him than you realize" John knew that was a low.

Sherlock stopped whatever he was doing in the kitchen table to look at him and scream. "¡All right, leave him!"

"He's so quiet; you are not even going to notice him"

"Get out of here John" said the man. He was out of the door immediately.

When his shift ended, John was positive scared. Nobody call him in all morning, not even a text complaining. So he was worried about it. Silence with Sherlock was not a very good sign. He was running when he came out of the cab, he climbed the stairs two at the time. And he noticed the strange sound coming out of the apartment. Anxious he entered to find the baby laying in blankets over the desk with lots of electromagnetic patches that were connected to Sherlocks Laptop. Whom was busy analyzing the baby.

"¿What are you doing?"

"Really John. I thought you studied to be a doctor"

"And I thought you didn't"

"I was curious about his incapacity and tried a few test on him. He has severe hearing problems."

"There are surgical procedures that can help"

"Maybe, but we don't know enough, and he's still very young to consider something." Said the detective standing up from the chair. "You can have him; I'm done playing with him"

He took the baby in his arms. "He's not a toy, you know?"

"Oh…I know that. But I wonder if you know that too"

John was speechless.

Author's notes:

Grammar Nazis, Canon Nazis and Nazis in general. I'm sorry about my English. I never had classes just cable tv. So I learned to speak American English?. Or that thing they use in movies, books and series.

I can have chats with estrangers, and ask for directions while traveling. But my true teacher has been fanfictions. I know that's not…errr…good. And that I should take this seriously in some way. Get a proper study of the language. I wrote many Harry Potter fics where I came from. But the Sherlock community is not as big as in English. So I tried to make this so I could practice and have fun with everyone else. I appreciate reviews. But do try not to be rude. I'm giving my best shot.

See you around. :D


End file.
